


Magnificat

by Azar



Series: The Christmas Child Trilogy [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Christian Character, Christianity, Christmas, F/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar/pseuds/Azar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A comment from Mulder and a song on the radio lead Scully to ponder Mary and what they have in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnificat

**Author's Note:**

> See notes on "It Wasn't His Child." Basically this is sappy MSR written in my twenties, complete with heavy handed religious metaphors. *sheepish smile* Hope you like it anyway.

We are in the car when the song comes on the radio. Much to my surprise, it is Mulder who turns the volume up, leaning back again to listen to it with a look of quiet thoughtfulness.

"I didn't know you liked Amy Grant, Mulder," I comment, trying to sound jovial, but failing because my heart is still too heavy with the weight of recent events.

"I don't, usually," he admits. "I don't *dislike* her, I just don't usually listen to her music. But this song...it reminds me of something your mother said to me the other night."

I frown, wondering what in this passionate interpretation of the Mother of God could possibly recall something my mother had said to my partner. "Something about Mary?"

He laughs. "No...something about Joseph, actually." He says no more, and I realize that moment is as private to him as many of my own late-night conversations with my mother have been.

Joseph. That was the figure from the creche that I found him turning over in his hands the night I asked him why he hadn't told me...

Amy's voice continues in the silence we leave, giving voice and life once again to a woman who so often gets lost in legend.

> I am waiting in a silent prayer  
> I am frightened by the load I bear  
> In a world as cold as stone  
> Must I walk this path alone?  
> Be with me now  
> Be with me now

The words strike me in the heart, echoing with an all-too-familiar cadence. I never felt so alone in my life as I have during these two weeks, when I found and lost my daughter. Even surrounded by family and friends, I felt isolated in the uniqueness of my grief. Only an impassioned plea to the God of my childhood, as my daughter lay dying in my arms, gave me the courage to welcome them back in.

> Breath of heaven  
> Hold me together  
> Be forever near me  
> Breath of heaven  
> Breath of heaven  
> Light in my darkness  
> Pour over me your holiness  
> For you are holy  
> Breath of heaven

Even as I repeat the words in my mind, I find myself remembering the image of glass in the window of the small chapel. Mary cradling Jesus on her lap. Odd as it seems, I feel a strange new sense of connection with the Blessed Virgin.

We are quite a pair, aren't we, Mary? Mothers in the strangest sense of the word, but mothers nonetheless.

I hope it isn't blasphemy to feel that way.

> Do you wonder as you watch my face  
> If a wiser one should have had my place?

Would a wiser mother to Emily have fought to keep her alive? Would she have danced with the devil to save her little girl? Or would she, like me...like Mary...have allowed her child to die so that somewhere...some others might live?

> But I offer all I am  
> For the mercy of your plan  
> Help me be strong  
> Help me be  
> Help me

It all comes down to this: Help me be strong. Help me, God.

My own words to Mulder come back to me. ("Who are the men who would create a life whose only hope is to die?")

I realize now that God did just that, according to the Church. He sent his Only Son to die...

Strangely, that's one of the questions that atheists never ask. No matter how many times they ask "How could a loving God allow...?" they never say "How could a loving God allow his Son to die?"

I imagine Mary wondered that. Standing at the foot of the cross, watching her son--God's son--die, she must have wondered how He could allow it. Just as I wondered how he could let my Emily die for the selfish schemes of the men who created her.

But if, by allowing Emily to die, we saved the live of just one other child--perhaps another of mine, perhaps one that is no part of me, it doesn't matter--then the sacrifice was worth it.

Perhaps that is what God felt, what Mary eventually came to realize. He gave His son for the children He wanted to save.

I had a daughter. When I thought God had left me barren, He presented me with a child, just like Sarah, Rachel, Hannah and Elizabeth before me. And even though I watched her die, for a brief, sweet time, I watched her live. As Mulder said, "maybe she was meant for that too."

I look over at him now, realizing that the song has ended while I was absorbed in my thoughts. I wonder why my mother spoke to him of Joseph, and what made him listen.

His eyes turn to meet my observation with a weary, somber smile and a sigh summoned from the deepest part of his soul.

I know Mulder loves me, just as certainly as I know I love him. Even though we've never spoken of it, we both know the place we occupy in each other's hearts. When the time becomes right, there will be no one else that either of us could ever give our lives to but each other.

He is my Joseph, my beloved who didn't even need an angel to persuade him not to abandon me.

With a quiet smile at that realization, I reach for his free hand. How can I not love a God who gave me such a gift?

Mary said it best, all those years ago: "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God, my savior. For the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is His Name..."


End file.
